Iron Grip
by Victorian Bombshell
Summary: When Deryn is shot and on the borderline of death, Alek must to everything he can to bring her back to the side of the living.
1. Chapter 1

Just wrote this on a whim listening to 'I Need A Doctor' by Eminem and Dr. Dre. I know there are alot of stories like this, but I really wanted to write one of my own.

Excuse any mistakes - it was written near midnight. Why do I always write stories when I'm so darn tired? Gah.

I do not own anything, and Scott Westerfeld owns the series and characters.

* * *

"No, no! Alek!" Deryn screeched in agony. An unmistakable pain ripped in the tender muscles of her side.

His head whipped back in an instant, his muscles stopping mid-swing and eyes widening.

Hah. She must have been a pitiful sight, sitting there and not even being able to get up. Deryn silently cursed herself for being so careless as she watched him dive under speeding bullets to get near to her.

With all the deafening gunshots and bloodcurdling screams, she marveled at how he had even heard her. That didn't matter now, though – the pain was too much to handle.

"Dylan, what's wrong?" his voice was clouded with worry, probably realizing that the Dylan Sharp he knew never called for help. She heard his knees hit the rope-covered deck and _thought_ that she felt him support her head on his lap. Her head _felt_ raised…

"Augh… I've gone and fallen like a bloody barking idiot. My side hurts, is all. Nothing to be worried about. Just help me up," her gruff voice ripped through the tension.

Deryn drowsily gazed up at her best friend. His eyes averted to her abdominals and he immediately turned stark white. Not good.

"Uhm, Alek-" her voice squeaked up in fear.

"Y-you've been shot."

In her grogginess from blood loss and bewilderment, all she could utter was, "Oh."

Then she made the mistake of looking down.

Her side was a bloody mess, a rather large hole protruding and showing reddened muscles littered with shrapnel. A crimson liquid flowed freely from her wound, soaking her midshipman uniform and bloodying up the back of the _Leviathan_. Deryn gaped.

"We have to get you out of here," Alek whispered. She could barely hear him over the roar of bustling warfare. His solid arms, strong from years of fencing, wrapped around her limp body and picked her up, causing the young midshipman to let out an agonizing scream.

* * *

It took every ounce of Alek's willpower to ignore her screams and keep trudging on to the interior of the ship. He tried to keep calm, but on the inside his heart could not be assuaged. "Shh, Dylan. We're almost there." She met his comforting whisper with a pained moan.

After what seemed like forever, he spied the entrance to the insides. Alek carefully scrambled down the ladder, cautious not to bring about any more pain to Deryn. Or cause any unwanted attention from her cries.

He swiftly weighed his available options. Dr. Barlow was locked up safe in one of the small, unnoticeable cabinets that lined the _Leviathan_. So, she couldn't help. Count Volger was ordered to translate for the captain and his men, so he was out. His forehead scrunched with worry. No one would be able to help them, Alek realized.

Still holding the writhing solider in his arms, he kicked the door open to his chambers and heard the doorknob snap with a crack. Alek raced past the fabricated wood door, setting her on his intricately-made bed.

Deryn let out a hiss, her face contorted into a look of pure concentration and agony. She reached out to grab at her open side, but Alek swiftly caught her hands.

To his surprise, she squeezed his strong fingers, her face slowly beginning to relax as she held on for dear life. He took this brief moment to study her face. Tears leaked from her bright blue eyes, and he felt a surge of unknown sadness.

"Dylan," he gently inquired.

Her eyes traveled to his emerald ones in alarm and her grip intensified. She knew what was coming.

"Now, Dylan…" He had no idea what kind of reaction this would create. His voice quivered. "I'm going to have to take the bullet out."

Deryn managed to snarl. "Don't you _dare_ take that bullet out, Aleksander. _Don't you dare. _Wait for Dr. Barlow. Do you hear me?"

Alek sighed in disappointment. "Dr. Barlow's in hiding, and we have no idea how long the fighting up on the deck will last. If I don't remove it now…" He couldn't bear to finish the sentence. Didn't want to even think about the possibility.

"Take my rigging knife." A weak voice rang out in the dimly lit room, causing Alek to twist his head in surprise.

Deryn, arm trembling, held out her knife to Alek. As he grasped it, her voice regained the missing gruffness it had mysteriously lost for a long stretch of time.

"Just do what you have to do."


	2. Chapter 2

Hey! Chapter TWO is up! Kinda a filler, but... As I write this, I've got chapter three up in another window. So, never fear! In a short time, it will be launched.

Yet again, I own nothing.

* * *

The rigging knife felt cold and foreign in his hands.

He let it twist in his fingers, studying the way his heart frantically raced at the sight of an open wound. His _best friend's_ open wound.

Alek willed himself to relax and cautiously led his unwilling eyes to travel over Dylan's puncture. It was a sickening image, full of silver shrapnel and gave the nauseating glimpse of pink flesh unaccustomed to the fresh oxygen flitting around it. The area around the bullet hole had already turned a worrisome beet-red color, and the young prince could practically see the irritated muscles growing steadily in size.

Alek's eyebrows furled up in horror. If he didn't work fast, Dylan could develop a fatal infection… and die.

He swiftly wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and took a better hold of the sharp dagger. "A-are you ready?" he gingerly asked the soldier on the bed.

"Aye," Dylan croaked out. An apprehensive grimace blatantly shone on her face as she glanced at the weapon. "Hey," Alek's soft whisper brought her eyes to his at once. "Don't look away from my eyes."

He saw Dylan stoically nod through his nervous haze. It was time.

* * *

A dim and flickering candle sat on Alek's desk. He was surprised that Dylan didn't spot the breach in the _Leviathan_'s rules, and sighed a breath of relief. He'd need it for the removal of the bullet lodged in Dylan's side.

Alek stepped away from his bedside and carefully brought the rigging knife to the sizzling flame, watching as heat enveloped the penetrating point. He promptly pulled it away and went to place a finger on the metal. _Hot enough_, he mused.

His footsteps rang across the fabricated wood of the ship's flooring as he returned back to Dylan's side. She was still looking at him. "Alright, I'm going to remove it," Alek told her. He went to unbutton her midshipman jacket.

"No, no, no, no! You can leave that on, Alek," Dylan hissed. Alek's eyebrows clenched in confusion. "No, I can't. It's in the way. If we leave it there, I'll never be able to get the bullet out." Dylan sighed in defeat and focused her view on the candle.

His fingers gingerly brushed against her cheek. _He's so cold,_ Alek thought to himself. Dylan's alarmed eyes shot up to meet his, and Alek softly ordered, "Keep your eyes focused on my eyes. It'll make things a bit easier for you." Once again, Dylan vigorously nodded.

He set the heated rigging knife down on his leather ottoman, and with a slow blink, he got to work. His clumsy digits fumbled with the intricate buttons on her jacket and carefully slithered it from her shoulders. It was ruined, full of bloodstains and a malicious, telltale hole. He flung it down at his feet and gave an encouraging smile to Dylan. She was still trembling, but kept her defiant gaze steady locked on his emerald eyes.

Alek glanced down and gasped.

Her bleach white shirt that she so often wore was stained blood red, and showed more of the ghastly wound than her jacket had. He closely inspected the bloodied area around the wound. "Dylan, the fabric's stuck to the skin. I'll have to remove this garment as well." Her body went rigid. No sound emerged from her open mouth.

Finally, he heard a small whisper emerge from her lips. "Okay," it said.

Button after ivory button unclasped, revealing an open chest. But it wasn't bare. Alek noticed that around Dylan's chest, a tight bandaging restricted it. He let out a sigh and slightly grinned. "You're always getting hurt, Dylan. When did you get this battle scar?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nervously tittered, "Oh, a _long _while ago. Long before you came on this ship, your princeliness." Dylan let out a tiny chuckle, but it was interrupted by a pained gasp.

Alek's face clouded with worry. "S-sorry," he managed to breathe out. The shirt was promptly removed, just as her jacket, but instead was caught on the bloodied skin and muscle. He grunted in frustration. Nothing the knife couldn't fix. He carefully removed as much fabric from her wound as he could, making sure not to draw anymore blood.

But in a few minutes, the sticky crimson would be freely rushing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 is FINALLY up! I am SO sorry for the delay! I'm working on a huge research paper for school, and it determines my grade for the year.

But I made sure to fix the POV on all three chapters so it isn't as confusing. Enjoy!

Listened to: Drumming Song (Jack Beats Remix) by Florence and the Machine, as well as Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)(Switch remix) by Florence and the Machine. On repeat. Can you tell that Florence and the Machine is my favorite band?

I own nothing. At all. Mr. Scott Westerfeld has all rights.

* * *

Dylan's hands clenched at the fluffed bedspread, turning bone-white.

Sweat beaded on Alek's forehead, as he struggled to fish the knife around in Deryn's body. But the knife never seemed to hit metal, no matter how far he wedged it down in her gaping wound.

"Hold still," Alek muttered, trying desperately to ignore the soldier's hisses of pain. His stiff, bloody hand clamped near the bullet hole on Dylan's body, and Alek took this chance to remove the huge pellet. The blade dug deeper and deeper into the wound, but never hit a bullet. Alek cursed and slowly withdrew the dagger.

"It's not coming out, Dylan," he gently whispered, staring at his pale face. Dylan's eyes shot open, and he fixed him with an intense glare. "Get. It. Out. I don't care how you do it, just get it out!" he shouted.

Alek looked down at his hands. They would have to do.

* * *

Again, Alek clenched his left hand near the wound and watched in shock as a new wave of blood poured out. He took a deep breath, willed his heart to cease its erratic beating, and immediately stuck his hands in the bullet hole.

A bloodcurdling scream filled the cabin.

Alek's eyebrows shot up in concern, but forced his fingers to advance.

His best friend's body writhed and struggled under his immense pain, dragging Alek's hand along with it.

"Dylan! I know it hurts, but you need to _hold still!_ I'm going to end up hurting you if you keep squirming!" Alek anxiously uttered.

If Dylan had heard him, he wasn't showing signs of it. His cold and clammy body still recoiled from Alek's touch, despite comforting words said as he tried to grab hold of the bullet immerged in his side. Dylan let vulgar curses fly, desperately kicking at Alek with as much force his slender legs could exert.

He'd have to hold the soldier down. Alek promptly leapt up and jammed his whole body weight down on Dylan's legs, looking down at his defeated face. Tears leaked from those baby blue eyes and a stubborn grimace was permanently stuck on his smooth face. Seeing the usually confident Dylan compared to this set his heart on edge, and Alek had to struggle not to let out a few salty tears of his own.

Alek's fingers forced their way deeper into the wound. His hands kept slipping and sliding due to the blood, causing Alek to groan in frustration. _Just a bit farther…. _

Until finally, his fingers closed in around it. He had the bullet.

Alek made the mistake of peering down, and almost immediately recoiled. His forearm was almost half-way emerged in the soldier's side. Alek gingerly retracted his limb, and with a small pop, his hand emerged from the hole in Dylan's side.

"Dylan, I've got the bullet –" Alek excitedly shouted, holding the bloody shrapnel up in the air, but his breath caught in his throat.

His thoughts were ripped away from him as Dylan's thin lips let out another agonizing screech, his eyes clenched as tightly as possible together.

The soldier's eyes had opened, but everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Dylan wasn't screaming anymore, Alek noticed. And in a terrifying flash, his eyes rolled back in his head.

* * *

"Dylan! Dylan!" Alek's voice frantically cracked. The bullet fell from his wet and bloody hands with a clunk on the fabricated wood floor and rolled to the iron-strong door, leaving a dotted and bloody trail in its wake.

_No, no, no, no… Don't leave me now. _Alek's breathing immensely accelerated as he put his head to the boy's bandaged chest, desperately straining his ears for a heartbeat.

_Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump… _

He was alive. Unconscious, yes, but _alive_.

Alek heaved himself up from Dylan and set his feet steadily on the wooden floor, careful not to step in any blood.

"Now to bandage you up," he whispered to Dylan in the ghostly candlelight, concernedly gazing at the ghastly wound.

With the remaining water on his nightstand, he worked to clear the remaining blood from his hands and around his best friend's wound with a wet cloth, stripped from a random shirt in his suitcase.

Alek studied Dylan's side. It needed to be bandaged, but… with what? _Maybe the wound on your chest has healed up?_ Alek wondered. It _had_ been over four months since he had come aboard the _Leviathan,_ and hadn't Dylan earlier said that he obtained the wound before that?

He gazed at the bandage wrapped tightly around Dylan's chest, noting its perfect condition and usefulness. He'd use it, and get another bandage for his best friend's chest later, if he needed it. This was perfect.

Tenderly supporting the boy's back, Alek began to slowly unwrap the bandage, ignoring the blood from Dylan's wound staining into his trousers. Row after row was removed, exposing more and more of his chest.

Until Alek screamed.

An intense blush radiated through his cheeks, reaching his bumbling mouth, and he swiftly, but clumsily, let his best friend fall backward and hastily covered up that _darn_ chest.

"Wh-what?" Alek managed to sputter out.

_Dylan was a girl._

How was this even possible? And, and – Why hadn't he known?

In confusion, he gazed at the girl's face. Her eyes were graciously closed, giving her a definite feminine look. That, and combined with her open, pink lips, portrayed her femininity more than ever. How hadn't he noticed her curves? Why hadn't he noticed how pretty she was? Sure, Alek thought of his best friend to be handsome, but… Why hadn't he seen this before?

But this girl lying on his blood soaked bed was still bleeding and unconscious, he realized with a jolt. Alek contemplated to earlier, when he had cleaned her wound with a shredded cloth, and frantically reached for his white dress shirt.

The rips filled the cabin, echoing eerily on the walls. Alek worked intricately with his hands, making sure to rip his shirt into a long, continuous strip like her bandage had been.

Immediately he supported her up, this time making sure that the chest bandage stayed _securely_ on. Blood seeped through each layer of pristine white cloth, sending Alek's face into a worried grimace. After about seven layers, the blood ceased to leak through. Alek wrapped another few extra layers around her side, and securely fastened the wrappings.

"There," Alek remarked, looking at the unconscious girl's side. It was a definite start, at least. Dylan, if that was her name (which he highly doubted), would know more about medical wrappings, as would Dr. Barlow, but it would have to hold until the battle was over.

His breathing slowed to meet an acceptable pace, and he stole another glance at her features.

Still desperately confused, he brushed away a soft tuff of her bright blonde hair, and with dancing butterflies in his stomach, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Get better soon, Dyl- whatever your name is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, guys. Please don't kill me for not updating for four months. **

**Up until May 23rd, I was in school and was doing rigorous honors class essays and work. But that's not an excuse. **

**For a while now, there has been a crisis in my family. And it's gotten worse. So much that when I try to write I cannot. My thoughts are only of the incident. So, it's been a healing process, but I finally sat down to write this - and finished it. So I've noticed that writing is an effective outlet. Expect more writing. **

**I'm hoping to have chapter five up soon.**

**Thank you all for your understanding and support of this story. Without you guys, I wouldn't be writing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own this series or the characters. I merely write fanfictions with the setting and characters in them. The Leviathan series belongs to Scott Westerfeld.**

* * *

Alek desperately clutched at his throbbing skull, squinting his eyes in extreme thought.

Denial.

Confusion.

Distress?

In a matter of seconds, everything he had ever known on the Leviathan lay smashed all around him. The intricate web of lies that she had crafted burned away into nothing. His best friend was a girl. _A girl._ How had he not seen it?

Blind. He was blind, that's why. Blind and deaf.

The prince cursed at himself in frustration.

Worn from clenching the countless handles of mechanical tools, nerve endings in Alex's digits alerted him whenever his temples throbbed painfully.

Too many tell-tale signs nagged at his conscious.

It should have been obvious that his best friend was a female! But, then again, it did take him quite some time to realize that Lilit was a girl, and -  
Alek shook his head as to try to rid himself of the thought of that kiss. Alek had thought it to be humorous at the time, but now it was just downright confusing. He'd have to ask Dylan about that later.

The young prince had always blamed Dylan's slipups in pitch on the fact that he seemed to be going through puberty. Simply that. He would have never of guessed that the voice he had heard was similar to her own! Now that he thought of it, Count Volger had mentioned her fluctuating voice a while ago while Dylan was in the room. He – no, she – had gone stark white and denied anything. Count Volger must have known. Why didn't he tell him?

And why didn't _she_ tell him?

Sure, there were a lot of context clues, including the wee beastie's rantings that he had gotten used to over the past few months. "_Mr._ Sharp!" the creature would always chirp from atop his shoulder. It should have been obvious, but didn't Dylan know that he was dense?

His head was spinning like mad with tumbled thoughts of the unexpected revelation.

Alek's clover green eyes slowly surfaced from the spot he had been blindly focusing on his trousers.

He studied her features, which now that he looked, actually were quite feminine. Alek was relieved to see her nostrils slightly wavering and her chest rising and falling. It meant he hadn't done quite as hopelessly as he had expected removing the bullet and its fragments.

He didn't have a clue when she would be emerging from slumber, or rather, fainting. Her eyes were still securely closed and didn't seem like they'd be opening anytime soon. All the prince could do was wait.

Just as his eyes were trailing away from her closed ones, Dylan's eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly. She was waking up.

Two blue orbs seemed to be broadcasting themselves to the world as her eyelids split from the other.

Alek could hear a faint moan coming from the back of Dylan's throat, watching as she clenched her eyes closed in pain. He stood in alarm.

"D-Dylan?" Alek asked, concern laden in his scratchy voice, not used to talking.

Dylan pried one tentative eye open to look at him.

"Did you get that barking bullet out?" she asked him. Her voice was strained.

Keeping his eyes on her in worry, he nodded his head.

Dylan snarled. "Doesn't feel like it." She weakly let her hand reach down to touch the ripped cloth bandages around her abdomen. The soldier looked up in confusion at him. "Oh," he explained. "I had to use one of my shirts as a makeshift bandage for your wound. Is that alright?"

He never got an answer, because at the mention of the word 'bandage', a thought seemed to rush into Dylan's head. She immediately shot up in alarm and stared at the prince with a huge, terrified look laced with discomfort plastered onto her face.

Alek scrunched his eyebrows in worry, moving towards her and trying to force her to lie back down again. She grabbed his wrists gingerly, trying her best to look him in the face without becoming dizzy.

"Did you… ah, find anything unusual?" she asked, trying to disguise her voice but utterly failing because of the unmistakable pain that she was in.

Alek's breath was caught in his throat.

Dylan's face scrunched up in worried apprehension, as if his answer would determine her life or death.

If he said no, then the girl would never know. Although knowing Dylan, she'd soon catch on. Or possibly not.

But what if he said yes? What would happen to their friendship? Would it end? Or would they get romantically inclined?

…. Not that he would mind, of course.

But, could he dare tell her the truth?

No, he couldn't bear to do it. The muscles of his mouth were screaming against his slight hesitant breath, so much that it almost hurt. His heart was beating too loud, and he prayed that Dylan couldn't hear. His thoughts protested against the sudden notion. Alek stubbornly pressed his lips together, and bit his tongue.

_You know,_ his thoughts softly teased him.

Alek exhaled silently in blatant frustration.

"No," he quietly murmured, not quite meeting her expectant but blatantly nervous gaze. He found that he couldn't quite look her in the eyes and lie to her.

Dylan didn't seem to notice the lack of sureness in her friend's voice and took it as an acceptable answer.

She seemed to calm down drastically and let go of Alek's hands. He gently placed her back down onto the cot, all the while trying to make sure he did not cause her any more discomfort than she was already in.

As Dylan looked up at him and tiredly smiled, a feeling of guilt panged in his heart. He despondently smiled back, the light never reaching his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sooo, I've been writing alot more now than I usually do. And it's quite nice, actually. I feel like I'm on a roll. But, school begins on Monday, so I'm not quite sure how much I'll be able to update. I'll try to write on the weekends and after my boatload of homework is done. I promise.**

**However, thank you so very much for all of your support surrounding this story and my situation. It means more to me than you'll ever know.**

**I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It's kind of a filler, and we'll be getting to the good part next. By the way, sorry if it's a little sloppy - I stayed up until around two in the morning writing this.**

**Again, the Leviathan Series belongs to Scott Westerfeld, and not to me. I merely write fan fictions of his works.**

* * *

Over the span of the next few hours, Dylan drifted in and out of the lulls of sleep.

Eyelids growing heavy and trying to shut, Alek found his head sinking down ever so slowly so that his chin touched his chest. Despite the fatigue that lingered in him, he forced himself to stir and pry his stubborn eyes open.

Alek figured that he needed to stay awake in case of any emergency or complications, or if Dylan just woke up. He thought it would prove to be an awkward situation if she awoke only to find him snoozing.

The young prince found his forehead scrunched together in confused thought.

"Why wouldn't she tell me…?" he whispered into the frigid air. He could have sworn his breath made a cloud.

He tried to squelch his feelings of anger and betrayal and focus on more pressing matters. After all, Alek had no idea if Dylan would make it yet. Sure, the chances were looking up, but further down the road, what if infection would set in?

Then Alek could possibly never get to ask the young soldier about what she was doing in the air force, of all places. She'd probably be dead.

Shuddering with the thought and the cold room combined, he stood and strolled to the large chest in the corner of his quarters, containing his clothes and a few bare necessities. Hearing the satisfying click that meant it was unlocked, Alek lifted the lid. He dug around until he had found his favorite jacket and slipped it on over his shoulders.

He looked over to Dylan. She held a slight shiver to her, and her face was contorted in her sleep.

Alek decided to grab a blanket as well.

On his way to the bedside again, Alek gazed out the window. He realized that it was already pitch black in the sky. So it was night. Alek had no idea how much time had lapsed since the beginning of the battle, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

In his arms, he held an old, green blanket. His eyes lit up with a nostalgic smile as he shook it out.

It had been his father's.

Memories flooded from a place in his thoughts that, for months, he had been desperately trying to block out. He suddenly remembered those particularly stormy nights when a threatening roar of thunder shook the whole castle. Still a small child, Alek had been terrified of the mysterious noise and often ran to his parent's room, his bare feet creating a pitter-patter quite facsimile of the crashing rain that threatened the world just outside the heavily fortified walls.

His father's booming voice seemed to mask the thunder and make it much less terrifying. And that blanket. His mother got it out for times akin to these, and wrapped her son up tight and snug in the blanket. "There," she always said with a slight smile. "Now you're safe." Her calm and soothing voice made up for his father's louder one, and always was able to lull him to sleep with the soft lyrics that she sang to him.

The prince felt his eyes beginning to become damp and he forced them closed tightly. No need to be crying about it now.

Alek's fingers were wrapped around the bottom two corners of the ancient quilt as he flapped it about, trying to expel any dust that may have inlaid in it. Satisfied, he turned to the bedside and shook the blanket out once more, creating a canopy atop Dylan. It slowly fluttered down and covered her up to her neck. It seemed to engulf her.

The young prince let out a humored snort at the sight of his friend. She was beginning to look more at peace already, as her face had relaxed considerably and her once vibrant skin started to gain some of its color back.

The soft flickers of the candlelight shone brilliantly around the small cabin. It was nice, really. The warm glow formed around Dylan's paled face, adding even more color back to it, and all the while showcasing her seemingly feminine features.

The prince gawked. She really was beautiful.

Eyes widening with realization, Alek shook his head furiously in order to banish the strange thought that had burst into his conscious.

Where had _those_ come from? He had just found out that his best friend was a girl, and now he was observing on how pretty she was?

Alek grumbled at the complicatedness he seemed to face. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think over on how he would be able to even possibly trick Dylan into thinking that he was ignorant about her secret. After a few minutes Alek felt himself drifting off, but he didn't have the energy to stop it.

Before he knew it, the deprivation of sleep sent him into a dreamless oblivion. 

"Well, if you were that tired, I could have gotten up and let you have your beauty sleep," a voice rang out, triggering Alek's brain to work again from its brief slumber.

The first thing he realized was that his whole neck and back were rigid and aching with the effort of keeping himself propped up for so long unconsciously. He inwardly cursed, vigorously rubbing the back of his neck. As if that'd be any help.

When Alek opened his jade green eyes, Dylan was staring at him with a bemused grin laced upon her lips.

'This is a girl you're talking to. _A girl_,' the prince's mind kept repeating to him.

Alek's thoughtful frown turned into a knowing smile for the smallest second. Dylan's face contorted with confusion.

'Yeah, but this is Dylan. It'll be the same as before. All I need to do is act like nothing's wrong – like I haven't got a clue,' he reasoned back to his concious.

"I needed to let you sleep," he justified. "You're hurt pretty badly, you know."

Dylan's features held a highly skeptical look, as if to ask if he were serious. She didn't believe him.

"And I take it that after I passed out, you thought it'd be best to keep me asleep and not check if I were alright, aye?" the midshipman asked, clearly only trying to mess with her friend.

The young prince sputtered before bursting out, "I-I checked to see that you were breathing a bit ago, and…" His voice trailed off in thought.

Dylan chuckled and struggled to get in an upright position to fully face Alek. After the second attempt, she gave up and flopped herself back down on the fluffed, feather-filled pillow on Alek's bed.

Alek glanced away, embarrassed. He didn't think it'd be as easy as he originally thought to keep feigning his innocence on the whole ordeal to Dylan. Knowing her, she'd soon catch on to his antics. But he figured he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

There was an awkward silence before either of them spoke again.

"Has the battle stopped yet?" Dylan curiously asked, gripping Alek's father's green blanket loosely in her long fingers.

Alek glanced up at the ceiling, or the floor to some soldiers on the upper level of the ship. When the prince first brought his friend into the room, he had heard many thundering footsteps above them and even louder gunshots and the clanking of swords crashing together.

But with the panic of having to play 'Doctor' on a _real_ human being, with _real_ tools, and _real _blood, he presumed that he would have blocked out most of it.

But now the noise had stopped. Almost eerily so.

"I think it's stopped. I can't hear anything. No footsteps, no gunshots, no talking. Nothing. It's… it's kind of creepy, actually," Alek told her with a slight shiver.

Dylan's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, it always gets like that after a battle. The ship's recuperating, I think. And so are the soldiers. We all usually clean up, help out as much as we can, and after that we rest for a while. We're beasties too, just like the ship, so we need to get rested before we can function again," she explained.

Alek blinked and then nodded slowly. "I think I get it… sort of."

The young midshipman quietly laughed, saying, "I didn't expect you to get it, you big Clanker."

Alek grinned, finally letting the light of the gesture reach his eyes. If Dylan could still joke around and make witty remarks after receiving such a wound as she had received, then he had no doubt in his mind that she'd be okay.

Or so he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again, guys! Now, I'm really sorry I didn't get a chance to update it until now. I had to start school a month late because of complications, and I usually stayed up until the wee hours of the morning trying to complete all of the work. **

**I've been looking forward to this chapter since the beginning, and I'm pumped for the next chapter too!**

**For the next two weeks, I have NO homework! I'm on fall break! Our school has a year-round schedule, where we have short summers and take two-week breaks off during the fall, winter, and spring. I like this more than traditional school, but probably only because I grew up with it. **

**Please tell me what you think, because I love when you guys leave your reviews! Thank you so much to all my readers. You've made this so worth-while.**

**P.S. Did you know that this chapter has over 3,000 words in it? Double-length! :)**

**The Leviathan series belongs to Scott Westerfeld. I own nothing.**

* * *

The cold midnight air twisted around them, causing a certain soldier to twist more snugly in her blankets and a certain prince to pull his regal jacket closer to his body.

Dylan adopted a discomforted look.

"Augh, my side is _killing _me!" she complained, allowing her hands to try and cradle the wound.

Alek swiftly snatched her palms away from her side and held them in his own.

He gave her a stern, warning look.

"Dylan, I know it hurts. You've just got to hold on. I'm going to go outside and try to find a doctor soon," Alek explained gently to her.

"Hopefully the ship hasn't been taken over."

At this, Dylan snorted in amusement.

A thought seemed to slip into her mind, evident by the fact that her eyes drastically widened and that she allowed her mouth to gape.

"Uhm, Alek?" she squeaked.

The prince's eyebrows lurched downwards in wonderment.

"Yes?" he asked, allowing the syllable to be stretched out so he could roll the word around in his mouth.

"Can you get Dr. Barlow instead?" Dylan asked. She caught herself using her girlish pitch and tried to sink her voice a pitch or two lower for Alek's sake.

_Maybe, _Alek thought, _I can get her to tell me that she's a girl, rather than be awkward and ask her._

Alek rolled his eyes, calling himself a coward and a _dumkopf. _He couldn't even face a girl?

The prince tried a different approach.

"Why do you want Dr. Barlow? She's not that kind of doctor," he asked her.

Dylan stuttered. "Ah- well, you see – I… I trust her more than Dr. Busk, the doctor on the _Leviathan._"

When Alek didn't look convinced, she hastily added, "Spend more time around her, you know…"

"But the doctor aboard the ship has been trained for situations such as these. Wouldn't you be more capable in his hands?" he asked, making sure not to sound as if he knew.

"NO!" she yelled. Blushing at her outburst, she lowered her gaze from his bewildered one.

"No, I… Aye, just trust me, Alek. It'd be better for everyone if she were my doctor," Dylan quietly said to the soft green blanket.

Alek sighed silently in frustration. So she wouldn't tell him.

"Alright. I'll get Dr. Barlow," he comforted her.

He despondently laid a palm on her shoulder and willed her to rest again, trying to reassure both himself and the soldier.

She seemed to relax and went to close her eyes.

"Oi, Alek?"

When he looked at her fully, the prince noticed that her once peaceful face had scrunched up a bit in pain.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You… _might_ want to get working on finding the doctor. 'Cause my side is _really _beginning to hurt," Dylan insisted. Her teeth clenched together, looking like she was trying to grin but was pathetically failing.

"A-alright. Does it hurt?" Alek asked in concerned apprehension.

"What do you bloody _think_?" she snapped.

Alek recoiled. "Okay, okay. I'll go get her."

* * *

Alek's footsteps echoed down the hall of the fabricated ship.

It was eerily quiet, in contrast to the gregarious roar of chatter from the crew of young men residing on the ship. He wasn't used to the silence. It made him paranoid.

As he got farther down the hall, he began to scout for the lady boffin's room, but found that all of the rooms were particularly the same. Only Dylan knew where her room was.

However, Alek did know where the egg room was on the ship.

If he could remember right, it was right around here somewhere.

And then he spotted it.

From a closed door, the soft flickers of squirming glow worms seemed to be desperately trying to escape from the tiny space between the hard floor and the fabricated wooden door.

Holding an apprehensive breath, the prince knocked.

There was a quiet shuffling from inside the room, before a voice called out, "Come in."

It was Dr. Barlow's voice.

Alek couldn't help but to exhale in relief.

His palms, dampened from nervousness, slowly rotated the door knob and cautiously pushed it open.

The boffin sat aloof in the large room, flipping the pages of a seemingly ancient book on human anatomy and life threads. Although she sat on the left side of the room void of any objects except a small trunk, the large wooden boxes appeared to come up behind her and engulf in her personal space. On her shoulder sat her loris. The beastie chattered away with Bovril, who had been left behind for safety with the woman.

Snippets of random conversations echoed across the room as Alek gingerly stepped into the room.

"Can I help you, Prince Aleksander?" the lady boffin interrogated, closing her dusty anatomy book with a loud clap.

"Erm… yes," he let out. "It's about D-Dylan."

When Dr. Barlow registered the prince's words, her eyes seemed to widen and her eyebrows furrowed. She knew that if Alek had come to her for something, it must have been serious.

Alek wouldn't deny it – he was terrified. Although his best friend had betrayed him by not telling him her secret, he still cared immensely about her. And at any moment, she could fall ill.

She set her huge book next to Bovril on the trunk, causing dust to splay about, ready to give the worried boy her undivided attention for what he was about to announce to her. The creature sneezed.

"Dylan was shot," Alek managed to choke out before his throat closed on him resulting from the immense concern he was feeling at the moment.

Both Dr. Barlow and Alek remained there, listening to the buzzing silence of the glow worms. Even the talkative lorises had ceased their incoherent prattle.

"When did this happen?" was all she could let out.

Although suspicion about the young soldier had clouded in her mind, she often thought of Dylan as one of her children from back home. Dr. Barlow knew she was not supposed to relish in any motherly feelings while aboard the _Leviathan_, certainly not towards one of the crew members, but she just couldn't help feeling protective over the child.

"During the beginning of the battle, so it's been quite a while. Dylan was shot in the side, and she's not doing too well at the moment," the prince explained.

"Wait. Did you just say '_she_'?" the boffin asked, her eyes contracting a curious look.

A look of bewilderment and angered confusion lined the features of Alek's face as he indignantly flung himself down on the basic chair in front of Dr. Barlow. Her eyes followed him in anticipation of an answer.

Alek fingers gripped his head and locks of auburn, unruly hair for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day.

"I- I don't know anymore," the boy let out, obviously frustrated.

Soon all of the burdens on his chest spilled out into the open air. It was as if the words were water and his mouth the dam, having been unexpectedly destroyed and split apart.

"I was getting the bullet out of her side, but it wouldn't come out with the basic tools I had around the room, like the rigging knife she gave me. So I had to use my hands. And I think that may be why she's not doing very well right now, which I feel dead terrible about. If she dies, it'll be _my_ _fault._ And I—" the prince's voice began to betray that beneath his hands, tears were beginning to drip from his eyes.

Desperately trying to regain his composure, he cleared his throat and sniffed.

Alek's voice sounded strained as he explained, "And so when I had gotten the bullet out, I had to take off her jacket and shirt, you know, so I could remove the ammunition from her side. And there was that blasted bandage wrapped around her chest. It hadn't registered in my mind that she could have possibly been a female, so I assumed that it was a particularly nasty wound she had gotten a while back."

They boy's hands finally trailed away from his eyes and he allowed them to make hesitant gestures during his uninterrupted speech, still not quite trusting his emotions to hold steady.

"When I asked her when she had gotten the wound, Dylan said that she contracted it long before I had gotten on the ship," he chuckled, accidently letting out a small hic. "I guess it was true, in a sense."

The troubled teenager glanced up, only to see a small smile break out onto the boffin's lips before he looked down at the wooden planks of the floor yet again.

Alek cleared his throat quietly, a sound that sobered them both.

"She was getting antsy after I kept stalling. I didn't want to take the bullet out, but I had to. She might not be alive right now if I hadn't. So I began to remove it."

The prince glanced disgustedly down towards his hands, which still held traces of blood between the crooks of his fingernails.

"It was horrible. She was in so much pain that it was hard to watch, let alone try to continue. I feel horrible for admitting this, but I was a bit relieved when she fainted. It made removing the metal much easier," Alek explained, this time daring to look at the boffin.

Dr. Barlow nodded her head once in curt understanding.

"It must have been rough to watch your friend go through that," she mused.

Alek's head turned to the side to take a look out the window. It was pitch black besides the faraway twinkle of stars that lined the horizon. In a flash he remembered all of those nights he spend out on the stern stargazing with Dylan, while she quizzed him over aerodynamics and fabricated beasts. His stomach seemed to drop.

"Yeah," the prince softly muttered.

Alek was quiet for a moment before he promptly continued. "And when I was done, there was a stark clean bandage, just wrapped around her chest. She said that she had gotten the wound many months ago so I figured it would have been healed by now. We could always go get another bandage if she needed one later, right? So when I began to remove it…"

The prince could feel his eyes become precariously searing. They warned of a dangerous eruption.

"I found out that she was a girl."

A silence stretched out across the stuffy room.

"When she came to, she asked me if I knew - If I had noticed anything..."

"And I didn't tell her," Alek let out with an angry sob. Trails of guilty tears ran down his cheeks freely now. He didn't care anymore that a woman could see him cry. Dylan already had.

Salty tears mixed with the fibers of Alek's regal jacket and trousers, but the boy hardly noticed.

"I didn't even tell her! I knew – I lied to her. But she lied to me… Why didn't she tell me that she was a girl? I would have been accepting of it!" he externally raved, throwing his hands up into the air in a sign of defeat.

He allowed a fist to crash harshly down upon his thigh in a mix of emotions.

Letting him drastically cool down, at first Dr. Barlow didn't say anything. Before long, characteristically, she found her words.

Blinking, the lady boffin asked, "Are you sure you would have been accepting of her choice?"

Alek allowed his gazed to turn to the fabricated floor once again and used the sleeves of his favorite jacket to wipe off the annoying tracks of drying tears from his skin.

"No, I'm not sure I would have."

Maybe she had been afraid to tell him. Maybe she had wondered what his reaction would be. Maybe she had worried that he would have announced her secret to the crew, telling all the world of how godless her decision was. Or… _Maybe she was in love with him._

Alek inwardly choked, dismissing the idea hastily. It wasn't possible! Dylan, loving him? And besides, even if she did, there was nothing that could be done by it. He was a prince and she was a 'barking commoner', as she had referred to herself once back in Istanbul. The prince threw the thought away before unexpectedly letting his mind trail to thoughts of her once more.

_Dylan._

"Oh no… I left her in there! I'm such a _dummkopf!_" Alek bolted up, causing the flimsy chair he had been seated on to go tumbling behind him with a deafening clash. The beasties, who were once drifting off, leapt up in the air with surprise and fear.

Dr. Barlow chose to gracefully stand from her seated position. "Prince, Aleksander, what is it?"

Grabbing tufts of hair in worry, he turned to her. "She was complaining of a lot of pain, so I came to get you. She asked for you, and I wanted to explain why. _But I didn't think it'd take this long!_" he exclaimed in aggravation, quickly heading towards the fabricated door.

With one last pleading look before darting out of the stuffy room, his eyes seemed to beg her to accompany him, despite her slight apprehension.

Dr. Nora Barlow scooped up the loris brothers, placing them on each shoulder and grabbed her trunk full of scientific supplies. Her anatomy book would likely come in considerable use, so she hurriedly slipped that into her trunk as well.

Hearing the echoes of the young prince's fast and rushed footfalls, she departed from the room. Not before locking the room up securely, of course.

Before the two of them knew it, Alek's cabin had appeared on the right-hand side of the hallway. Alek laid a precautious hand on the doorknob. His grip tightened midway and stopped, as if he had a sudden revelation.

"Ma'am, if you could please, do not let her know that I know she is a girl. I'm not ready yet," he explained. The lady boffin nodded silently in agreement and placed a hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

Taking a breath, the prince uneasily pushed the fabricated cabin door open.

He had expected to see something horrific, such as his friend in immense pain, bleeding, or even cold and dead.

But there she slept, her chest slowly rising and falling with the lulls of slumber.

Alek closed his eyes gratefully and thanked his god, heaving a sigh of relief. He grinned as he walked up to her bedside.

But as Dr. Barlow came behind him, she did not smile. Something was wrong, she could see.

"Your Highness, something is wrong," she finally muttered as her eyebrows furrowed.

Alek backpedaled. "W-what? No, she looks fine! She's just sleeping!" he sputtered.

She looked into his eyes and shook her head in rebuttal. "She may look fine," Barlow reasoned. The lady boffin stepped in front of Alek, ushering him away to get a good look at the sleeping soldier.

Alek stood beside the boffin now, gazing despondently upon the girl's now-present feminine features. Was it something he had done?

Dr. Barlow held out the back of her hand and touched it across Dylan's forehead, which was laced with sweat.

_Just as she had thought._

Her children back home had contracted many fevers during their childhoods thus far, so she was quite adept at acknowledging a fever with merely the touch of her palm. But her children's temperatures hadn't been this scalding.

The lady boffin removed her hand from the girl's head and shook the heat away from it. Although Dr. Barlow was not that kind of doctor, she knew enough about medicine and science to know that when a fever set in, the body was either battling a sickness or an infection. She doubted that this girl was ill, so she went with the latter idea.

Still staying in character in case Dylan was still semi-conscious, the boffin made sure not to refer to her as a girl in any of her dialogue. "She seems to have an infection," the doctor told the boy standing nervously by the bedside, who was ringing his hands in his jacket.

"An i-infection? Is that why she—I mean he—has a fever?" Alek asked. He had paid _some_ attention in his required studies at least, to know that.

The lady boffin nodded in affirment.

"And Mr. Sharp here had no sign of a fever before you left the room to retrieve me?" she quizzed him.

"Yes, I believe so. Dylan didn't seem as if he were hot at all; In fact, he seemed a bit chilly, so I covered him up with this blanket here." The prince explained, gesturing down to the warm fabric.

Eyebrow raised, Dr. Barlow asked him, "Have you ever had a fever?"

Alek adopted a confused look upon his face. "Yes… why?"

The woman exhaled before telling him, "Well, then, you most likely know that with fevers, accompany bouts of being freezing cold, and the next minute, feeling as if you are in an oven."

He nodded slowly, allowing the gears in his head to process the words.

"And this infection," the boffin announced, opening the latch on her dusty trunk, "Is an internal infection. It's going to accumulate much faster. So, I would suggest making yourself useful."

Inside of the trunk were medical supplies galore, which baffled Alek, as Dr. Barlow claimed not to be a medical doctor. But if her trunk of supplies would come in handy, he wasn't going to ask nor complain.

"First of all, we need to cool Mr. Sharp down significantly." A woman's voice registered in his eardrums, but faintly.

The prince's gaze lingered over a feverish Dylan before snapping back to the lady boffin's trunk full of equipment. This was _his_ fault that his best friend was suffering. If he didn't do something fast, his best friend might not even be on the Earth in the morning. The boy cringed.

Alek knew what he had to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, everyone. I feel terrible for not updating as quickly as I should have. Life has gotten in the way recently and I've been trying to work through it. Thank you so much for sticking so dedicatedly to my story, and I am so grateful for all of you! I hope you enjoy.

Leviathan belongs to Scott Westerfeld, not me. :)

* * *

The prince's body was becoming sore and tense after sitting in the same position on a fabricated wooden chair for quite some time.

He held a dampened strip of cloth to the soldier's head, desperately trying to keep the fever at bay and drive it away. Every few minutes the cloth would become searing hot from retaining the heat of her body. It became monotonous as he kept dipping the cotton in ice-cold water again and again. He did not care if his arms ached and his back was numb from sitting in the same position for hours. He was saving his best friend. And whether he realized it or not, he cared deeply for her.

Alek studied her closed eyelids, flickering with what he thought to be the origin of her sight in the darkness of her dreams.

She looked so peaceful. A nightmare seemed to be plaguing her thoughts, however, and brought him back to the remembrances of his parents and that big, green blanket wrapped around his best friend.

He had heard when he was small that a nightmare during an illness signified bad luck ahead. Alek prayed for this not to be the case. A thought occurred to him, although seeming juvenile. What if he could somehow calm her down, somehow cause the nightmare to leave?

Alek knew it to be an old wife's tale, and he had never considered himself superstitious, but he wasn't taking his chances this time.

So he began to sing.

* * *

In a sleepy haze, Deryn slowly came to her senses.

Unlike her side, which hurt for some reason or another, her forehead was pleasantly cool.

And through her grogginess, she heard something.

_Singing. _

Well, more like humming with the occasional word and phrase mixed in, but it was singing.

_And barking spiders_, was this voice magnificent. It was a male's voice that had a refreshingly mellifluous tone to it. Goose bumps from the sheer beauty of it traveled down her already frigid limbs. A microscopic upturn of her mouth's sly corners went unnoticed by the boy.

Although it did not matter to her, the song was in a completely different language than she was familiar with, quite similar to the language that Alek often spoke in when upset or chatting to Volger.

Wait.

_Alek. _

"_Unter einem strahlend blauen endlosen Himmel_," he quietly sang, as if sharing a deep secret with her.

The soldier allowed herself to peek at him though squinted eyes. Her many blonde eyelashes hid the gaze of ocean blue pupils underneath them like a mask. Of course, Alek didn't even notice.

And as she studied his face that appeared so close to hers, it held a look of pure concentration and worry. The look in his eyes was soft, as if he were smiling at a newborn child.

Was he singing to her?

Deryn internally shook her head loose of the insane thought. No, that was impossible!

_Right…? _

He didn't even know she was a girl. Sure, there was a rather close shave with this whole 'shot' business, but he hadn't found out. He had denied finding anything, and seemed as oblivious to the fact of her gender as ever. And for this, she was thankful.

The girl didn't want any new muddle thrown into this already sticky situation.

"_Wellen versuchen zu messen, die Tage, die wir schätzen _…"

Deryn felt her heart melt. Although she hadn't a clue what they boy was singing in German, the sound of his voice and the look resting upon his face was enough.

The magnificent and hypnotic sound of Alek's voice was enough on its own to send her into another dreamless state. However, Deryn had slept amply for the past day or so, and all of the grogginess seemed to have evaporated from her body akin to the sickly sweat that laced her skin.

Other than this, the soldier found that she couldn't even have fallen asleep if she tried. The state of her body was confusing to her, and this barking muddled, scrambled brain of hers wasn't helping one bit.

She couldn't get her ever-present thoughts into order. They were all too fuzzy, slipping away from her as if she were trying to catch phantoms with her bare hands.

Deryn clenched her eyes as the dull throb of pain became present in her skull once again. The sudden onset of bile rising in her throat forced her eyes wide open, causing a tightening of her grip on Alek's old green quilt.

Regretfully to the soldier, Alek immediately stopped his peaceful singing and swiftly stood, grabbing the bucket that he and Dr. Barlow has wisely decided to place by her bedside. But it turned out to just be a false alarm.

"Scheiße," Alek muttered, placing the bucket on the ground once again. "This is getting worse than I thought…"

Deryn, however, could barely hear him. She felt like she had when her crewmates had urged her to take a drink of brandy while on port in London. What was the word they had labeled the feeling...? Oh, right. Drunk.

"Hey, Alek," she feverishly greeted, grabbing his hand. His palms felt cool and dry compared to hers. She gave her action no thought in her ill state.

"Hello, Dylan," the boy returned with a worried smile. He patted her hand before pulling away so that he could replace the wet cloth that he had laid on her forehead to combat her slowly raising fever.

"That's cold," Deryn protested, though not fighting against his actions.

Alek had to let out a small chuckle. "It's to help bring down your fever, you know. You've got a pretty bad one there." He held his hand on her forehead.

"Oh," she muttered, her head still swimming.

Was she beginning to color red, or was that just in effect of the fever…?

With a jolt, Alek realized he had left his palm resting on her forehead absent-mindedly. His face burned the temperature of his best friend's fever.

But wait. He had to act natural. She might suspect something.

He tugged his hand away from her head, faster than the bullet that had hit her, as Dr. Barlow's steps were heard audible in the room.

Deryn's eyes sluggishly traveled up to the doorway.

"I'm back from the medic's quarters," the lady boffin called, emerging in the room only to find that the girl was awake. Dr. Barlow explained to her, "While you were sleeping, I ran out of penicillin."

"Good," Alek replied. "She's going to need it."


End file.
